


Dumb Shit My Kid Says

by ArdenSkyeHolmes221



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Explicit Language, Female Peter Parker, Fluff, Freeform, Gen, How Do I Tag, Ice Skating, Italian Tony Stark, One Shot Collection, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker is Tony Stark's Biological Child, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Peter Stark - Freeform, Precious Peter Parker, Sick Peter Parker, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Whump, author attempts humor, i'll add tags as i go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-07-31
Packaged: 2019-10-20 05:39:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17616554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArdenSkyeHolmes221/pseuds/ArdenSkyeHolmes221
Summary: What it says on the tin. Peter Parker saying dumb shit while exasperated Tony Stark has to listen to it.***Chapter Seven:Or that time sugar was the reason Peter won’t be asked to babysit his little sister ever again.





	1. Ice Skating

**Author's Note:**

> This got out of hand. And I may have been hinting the next thing I posted was going to be an actual story not a one shot. I lied. BUT that will be coming and why I keep bringing it up is so I'll do it, ya know? Also, why do all of my things end up longer than anticipated? Oh well. Have some winter wonderland, Irondad feels. I don't own anything.

Tony slips out of the Audi, stretching as he stands to his full height, squinting up at the sparse sunlight before pushing purple glasses up his nose. Behind him, Peter is the first out from the backseat and unlike his mentor, the teenager tips his head up to soak in the rays with a small dopey grin. Rhodey and Pepper exit near simultaneously, both wearing identical looks of satisfaction. It puts Tony on the defense and he opens his mouth to call them out on it when,

 

“How’s it already so busy?” squeaks Peter. “It’s ten in the morning on a Saturday!”

 

Rhodey deadpans, “It’s ten AM on a Saturday, Pete.”

 

Peter tosses him a wounded glance that no doubt is his attempt at projecting his displeasure but he ends up mirroring an irate toddler.

 

Tony chortles.

 

“Come on, Pete; we’ll go buy the tickets.” Pepper ushers the teen, holding her fiancé’s gaze to make sure he’s watching as she rolls her eyes, before tugging Peter into her side and they go on ahead.

 

“He’s a good kid,” Rhodey says casually as Tony rounds the car to his best friend. “Who is way too easy to tease like a certain someone back in the day.”

 

“He is,” he replies without taking the bait. “You know he wouldn’t have minded if you wanted to go back, right?”

 

“And miss you falling on your ass in front of people? Hell no!”

 

Tony jambs into Rhodey’s shoulder and grumbles under his breath when his friend doesn’t even lose his balance. Then they are both laughing merrily as they meander to catch up with their missing party.

 

Peter finds them before Tony even has the chance to honestly look, skipping over and sporting a trademarked Parker megawatt smile he wears when he’s ecstatic, two pairs of ice skates slung over his shoulders, and his unfinished drink in his free hand.

 

“Hi Tony!”

 

“Hi bud,” he parrots, matching the grin at his approaching kid. “Pepper not squared away yet?”

 

“Oh, she ran into someone she knew.”

 

“She did? I wonder who it could be.”

 

“Beats me. But why are you surprised? Pepper’s social. What else would you call it when someone happens upon an acquaintance outside of work? I call it socializing.”

 

“Kid.”

 

“What?”

 

“Are those my skates?”

 

“Yep!”

 

Tony motions left with a chin jerk and Peter leads them to a free section of a bench. The teenager allows both skates fall off his shoulder, then he hands off one to his mentor, slurping at the red Starbucks cup absentmindedly. Tony tries hard not to wince at the sight and sound of his kid’s slurping. He sits on Peter’s right and starts mimicking the lacing motions in hopes of ignoring it.

 

“Drink all your hot chocolate, Pete; if we leave it with Rhodey, he’s liable to drink it gone and I don’t wanna hear you whining for another one.”

 

“You got it dude.”

 

“I am not your ‘dude,’ child, how many times do I have to tell you?”

 

“As if I’d drink some kid’s hot chocolate while he’s ice skating.”

 

“Don’t listen to him, Underoos— Rhodey’s always been a dirty liar.”

 

“Says the kettle.”

 

“Wait— wouldn’t I technically be considered the pot now? Y’know, since I married Pep?”

 

“You can be both the pot and the kettle, Tones.”

 

Peter doesn’t bother covering up his snickering.

 

“Wait wait wait: are you insinuating that I’m a liar? Me? Did I hear you correctly?”

 

“I didn’t insinuate. I know you’re a liar.”

 

“And here I thought I only brought one teenager to skate today.” drawls Pepper.

 

Tony, Rhodey, and Peter look up in unison to see the strawberry blonde with her arms crossed and a put-upon expression of boredom.

 

“C’mon gentlemen, I don’t have all day.” his fiancée continues on, taking a seat and lacing up her ice skates more efficiently than she claimed to have known. She told them last week when they agreed on their weekend activities she hadn’t been ice skating since she was ten. Then, as if she reads Tony’s mind, she says, “Did I lace these correctly, Peter?”

 

Peter falls for the ploy and bends at the knees to inspect, while Tony and Pepper hold eye contact, the former narrowing his while the latter raises her eyebrows as if daring him to call her out. He doesn’t.

 

“Perfect!” the kid crows, standing up fluidly and Tony admits he’s jealous of Peter’s balance.

 

Because Tony? He may have memories of ballet lessons but they certainty don’t translate to balancing on ice skates even on non-frozen, solid ground. He’s visibly wobbly.

 

“This is gonna be great. Peter, you’re a genius.”

 

“Shut up, platypus.”

 

“If you two are finished with your material spat, Peter and I are ready.”

 

“I recall being married only once.”

 

“That’s because you were drunk at ours, Tones.”

 

“What? Back at MIT?”

 

“He would have been a minor then, Rhodey. Like say, my age?”

 

“Oh my god! Let’s go skate now, I can’t wrap my brain around the fact we’re making jokes about marriage when my kid is the same age. I just— andiamo subito la mia famiglia, I can’t take any more with my bad heart.”

 

And Tony trots off without Pepper and Peter.

 

“He thinks walking away and claiming a weak heart automatically means he won,” his kid pips up.

 

“I can still hear you, Roo!”

 

Next thing Tony knows he’s got a spiderbaby hugging him from behind and his wife’s giggling form slipping her arm through his right one. And he’s certain that if they all weren’t wearing shoes with blades attached Peter would be attempting to hitch a piggyback. Pepper presses a kiss above his goatee, her smile wide against his cheek.

 

“Who’s teaching him how to skate first?” questions Peter.

 

Tony sputters but he doesn’t have time to interject the phrasing as his wife replies quickly.

 

“You.”

 

Then she’s fluidly detaching from the crook of his arm and inserting herself into the gathered crowd entering and exiting the ice rink. And she pushes off with grace.

 

“Haven’t been ice skating since she was ten my ass,” he grumbles.

 

Peter loops around to Tony’s front and he has yet to lose his trademark smile, reaching down to latch onto his wrist and tugging them forward.

 

“Please tell me you both haven’t lied to me?”

 

“I haven’t,” his kid replies, peering around customers ahead of them to see how fast the line is moving. “Honestly, I haven’t been skating since two years before Uncle Ben died.”

 

Peter weasels between people and Tony follows, not minding the traffic jam so long as his kid knows how to navigate, and suddenly they are on the ice.

 

“Pete.”

 

“I’ve got you. Hey! This is worlds easier than the last time I was here.”

 

“Like you don’t know why,” snarks Tony with a blatant eye roll.

 

A smirk blooms on the kid’s face and Tony automatically grips Peter’s forearms.

 

“Pete.”

 

“I know you; trust me, we’ll go around once and I promise you’ll have it picked back up by then.”

 

“I haven’t been ice skating since I was your age, kid.”

 

“It’s not dissimilar to bike riding.”

 

“Not helping.”

 

But Pete’s a sneaky kid when he wants to be; while he is too busy making sure he’s not gonna end up flat on his ass (as if his kid would let him), Peter has them casually skating along. And of course he doesn’t notice it because they are talking because Peter really does know him.

 

“Don’t freak out, we’re doing fine.” the words slip out of Peter’s mouth, his wide eyes silently begging Tony not to look away.

 

“I trust you,” he replies gruffly. “Rhodey let me fall on my ass right away when he took me for the first time.”

 

Peter giggles, biting down on his lower lip to keep the noise inside but they are close enough Tony can hear.

 

By the time they are on the opposite side of the rink Tony feels his confidence spike and at the same time he has his epiphany the teenager echoes it. Peter raises an eyebrow to ask if he wants to be let go and Tony doesn’t even pause as he releases his death grip on the younger’s forearms. Peter keeps skating backwards and spreads his arms out wide, nearly smacking several someones in the face.

 

“That didn’t take him long at all,” his wife’s voice comes from behind before she appears next to them.

 

“I told you it wouldn’t.”

 

“Why I always put you in charge, Peter.”

 

“I thought you were in charge?” asks Tony, bemused.

 

“Oh, I am in charge. But if I can’t be, Peter’s my second in command.”

 

“He’s mine too, so I cannot fault you there.”

 

“I’m gonna go a couple laps, okay?” Peter injects smoothly, doing a tight spin before he’s skating backwards again as he gives Tony the beginning stages of his puppy eyes. As if Tony is going to tell the kid he couldn’t after they are already skating.

 

“Kid—”

 

“Hold on, wait— Peter, where are your gloves?” Pepper holds up a black leather hand to stall them.

 

Brown eyes widen as the teenager peaks down at his bare hands. “Ummm.”

 

“How’d you lose them already?” sighs Tony and begins slipping off his own.

 

“No, no, Tony— I’m fine!”

 

“Says the teenager who walked into the kitchen this morning in sweats, a hoodie, and his comforter.”

 

“So I get cold easily!”

 

“Take the gloves, Roo.”

 

“No, I’m okay. I promise. I have pockets.”

 

And the little shit doesn’t allow Tony another rebuttal because he takes off, bobbing and weaving between other skaters as he picks up speed.

 

“Ugh!”

 

His wife out right laughs at him.

 

“He’s a menace to society.”

 

  
“You don’t mean that.”

 

“Okay, so I don’t mean half the things that I spew out.”

 

“C’mon, let him have a little bit of fun. You can skate with your wife?”

 

Tony’s grin feels sappy as he gazes at his wife and they lace their gloved hands together.

 

Fifteen minutes later, he has to admit he’s enjoying the time alone with Pepper. They decided their weekly date was going to be a family event, but he’s grateful they still have had some time to their selves. They’ve both been keeping a surreptitious eye on Peter, who is progressively drawing attention the faster he gains speed and the more spins he does. Granted, Peter has mostly kept to single flip jumps if he’s still up-to-date on figure skating lingo; but Tony knows it’s only going to be a matter of time before Peter forgets where they’re at and does for something showy like one too many Lutzes.

 

“He is agile, isn’t he?”

 

Tony hums in agreement.

 

Several paces ahead of them, Peter picks up speed once more. He positions himself to do another jump and as the brunet goes to land a girl comes barreling into his orbit and Peter senses it and mistimes the landing and ends up crouching down low. It’s no good. Tony knows he’s going to end up on the ice, so he unlaces his hand with Pepper’s and pushes forward to close the distance in hopes of lessening the damage.

 

Peter loses his balance and instead of landing on his ass like physics says, the kid attempts to scramble forward and he wipes out on his front.

 

Not fretting about speed now, Tony races off to save his kid.

 

“Pete!”

 

He is so close now that Tony actually watches what happens next clearly. A fast paced skater zooms by and quite literally glides over the kid’s outstretched hands. Peter’s face crumbles and Tony winces.

 

“Peter!”

 

Mindful of how he approaches the teenager, Tony bends at the knees and situates himself to help pick Peter up so he’s not putting any weight on his hands, which have stained the ice and Tony’s pretty sure those are bones he sees.

 

“Holy shit, kid,” he curses once Peter is upright and leaning against him. “Let me see them.”

 

“I’ve been sliced and diced.”

 

“Oh my god, Peter!”a startled laugh is pulled from Tony and he manhandles his kid, throwing promises over his shoulder to passersby he’s got the situation handled, until dazed brown eyes face him.He thinks Pepper is behind him as a form hovers at his shoulder. “Let me see, Roo.”

 

Peter obeys by placing bloody palms in his own.

 

Immediately Tony unwinds his scarf and makes to wrap Peter’s hands.

 

“Wait! No way are you sacrificing Gucci for my hands. Stop that!” Peter tries to bat Tony away.

 

Tony bites back a groan and keeps a lose, but firm grasp on Peter’s forearms. “No, you stop it. Peter, listen to me: I need to wrap your hands.”

 

“You can’t wrap it up with your scarf.”

 

“It’s a stupid scarf. And it’s not Gucci.”

 

“Nope, but mine is.”

 

Before either genius has the chance to protest Pepper swoops in with a white scarf and wraps up Peter efficiently.

 

“The most expensive bandage I have ever had in my life. Ever. Oh, my God.”

 

“Catch him, Tony, before he faints.”

 

“Don’t think it’s because of blood loss, Pep; just think he’s been sticker shocked.”

 

“It’s cashmere Gucci, too!” wails Peter. “I can feel the expensive wool!”

 

“Your priorities are out of alignment,” he informs Peter as the three of them begin the slow trek toward the exit.

 

“And yours aren’t?” quips his wife.

 

“Not helping.”

 

“Do you think I’ll get a free slushie?”

 

“What?” comes his wife’s intelligent response.

 

“Kid, I’ll make you hot chocolate when we get back to the apartment, okay?”

 

As soon as they are off the ice, Rhodey is there with a rink employee and Tony has to work his magic to get them the woman to leave (she does with little fuss, surprisingly), as Tony unlaces Peter’s skates and slips his black Converse back on. Rhodey hovers and Pepper rambles nervously. Tony’s had enough experience with his kid getting injured on patrols by now not to freak out in the midst of it. While shoving the left foot into the black canvas shoe, Peter blinks up and holds up his hands and says,

 

“Look, I’m a crime scene.”

 

“If I didn’t know about your enhancements,” Rhodey starts off softly, “then I’d swear you were drunk off your ass right now, Peter.”

 

“I think I’d rather be drunk,” nods a dazed teenager.

 

“Take off your skates Tony and take him back to the car; I’m going to return these and we can go home and treat him.”

 

“Do you think they’re already healing?!”

 

“Shh, Pete. Secret identity, remember?”

 

“How sweet would it be if they were healed by the time we got back to the penthouse?”

 

“Not sweet because I need to disinfect them at the very least.”

 

Peter’s brows furrow and he jerks back.

 

“No arguing. We aren’t letting the superhealing do all the heavy lifting this time.”

 

And his kid starts pouting.


	2. Glacier Cherry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo... this is me just trying to get the creative juices going and I wanted to get any kind of word count in today. I'm struggling with a lengthy WIP that I PROMISE I'm sharing soonish. This is what I got all the same.

“Are you literally sticking to me right now?”

“Huh?”

“I have a clingy Spider-baby and he refuses to acknowledge personal space.”

“Dad?”

“Don’t mind me, Roo—” his father’s face comes into blurry focus, but he recognizes his sarcasm as sleeps semi-dissipates. “Just shocked me.”

“‘M sorry?”

“Don’t be.” Lips press firmly to the crown of his head.

Peter’s eyes close and he dozes.

“FRIDAY has been monitoring his fever for me, Pep. It’s gone down slightly but it’s still over 101. And every time I so much as shift he clings to me. Pretty sure I’ve flashed back to when he was a newborn and he had his first ear infection. Except, y’know, he’s sticky clingy now instead. No, he hasn’t thrown up in the last two hours but it looked like a week’s worth of food came up. He took a single bite of a saltine before promptly succumbing to dreamland. Yeah, I’ll tell him; but he’s been incoherent mostly. We’ll see you sometime tomorrow morning then. Love you, too, sweetheart.”

Peter burrows into his father’s side and loses track of time again, not even sure if he heard that conversation or if he dreamt it.

Next time he’s lucid again, he’s not in the living room and the ceiling is pitched black. His heart is racing and he can’t breathe out his nose.

“D—Dad?” he pushes out then promptly starts hacking up a lung.

“Pete? _Tranquillo_ _, bambino; papà è qui._ I’m right here, kiddo. Lean on me, alright? Take some deep breaths with me. In and hold. Out slowly. You’ve got it.”

“I’m sick?” he attempts asking but the words sound jumbled.

His father snorts from behind, “Pretty sure you’ve got the flu.”

But his words get lost in translation once sweaty curls get swept through.

“That’s nice.”

“Want a sip of water?”

“No.”

“Let’s try that again: take a sip of water.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Peter.”

“Don’t gotta.”

“I’ll put an IV in you. Don’t think I won’t. You are dehydrating and you need fluids.”

Peter promptly pivots onto his side, tucking his head beneath his father’s armpit and sliding beneath the comforter. The room spins despite his eyes being squeezed shut and a pitiful noise escapes against his wishes. He knows he’s being childish. He hates being sick and his father’s mother-henning, as Uncle Rhodey so aptly refers it, ignites memories of Peter being five and he just kind of acts childishly instead of a mulish fifteen year old. Secretly, he likes the extra attention.

“Would you like something else to drink: tea or Gatorade?”

“Mmmmm... yeah, Gatorade.”

His dad shuffles around to sit up properly then scoots off the bed. Before he stands, Peter clumsily reaches out for his father’s wrist.

“Wait wait wait. I wan’... don’t bring back a yucky flavor.”

“I know you don’t like certain colors, kiddo. I raised you.”

“I want cherry.”

“Red one?”

“No!”

Laughter fills the quiet of their penthouse.

Peter pokes his head out from his cover and glares at his father.

“Chill out, vengeful puppy. I know you want the white one. I’m teasing you.”

“I’m sick.”

“I know. S’that mean I can’t tease you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Don’t fall back asleep. I’ll be back in like two minutes.”

“Mmkay.”

He falls back asleep all the same. Gets woken up again all the same, too.

“Quit whining, _bambino_ and drink five sips.”

“Don’t wanna, Dad.”

“I brought back a curly straw.”

Peter squints his eyes open in the general direction his father’s voice is coming from and smiles, “I didn’t know we still had any?”

“As if I don’t have my own ways of bargaining with my child,” snorts his father. “Drink now.”

“Electrolytes taste better when they’re cherry flavored,” Peter gets out between sips.

“I haven’t heard sick-brain Peter speak in a long time. What else have you got up your sleeve?”

“Mmm…I think Spanish is going to become my predominate second language. _No hablo italiano_.”

“We can’t have that, kiddo. You can be fluent in three languages.”

“I don’t think my hard-drive has enough space for more than two.”

“Plus, once you get the hang of it, Spanish isn’t dissimilar to Italian.”

“I know. I keep telling Señora Martín _grazie_ instead of _gracias_ and she keeps giving me the stink eye.”

“She giving you any other trouble?”

Peter gulps too quickly and starts choking.

“Whoa, hey! Peter, what the hell? Are you gonna throw up? Okay, up up up, c’mon we’re going to the bathroom.”

He doesn’t call it an avoidance technique when he does throw up the moment they reach the bathroom. His dad ends up blaming his “sick-brain,” but really Peter had been coherent enough by that point embarrassment sets in and he doesn’t correct him.

Peter stumbles back to his dad and Pepper’s California king bed and sprawls out. Dad told him that he couldn’t have anything larger than a queen size in his room because he’s a bed hogger and he doesn’t need to learn how to hog a king so young. Peter disagrees. So of course Peter is going to soak up as much space as humanly possible before his dad returns.

“No way. Kid, no. Scooch your ass over. You can imitate a koala bear all you like as soon as I’m in bed but you aren’t a starfish.”

“Dad.” He drags out in protest.

“I will not be held responsible if I have to move you, Pete.”

He pouts.

Ends up lifting his right side of his body and then he’s being tugged with the utmost care until his dad is back in the bed.

And if Pepper finds them both snoring, snuggled up together in the morning, with Peter’s fever mostly gone, the kid is none the wiser.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Indulge me and my random ass thoughts, please and thank you, by leaving kudos and comments? They are surprisingly great motivators for getting in gear. Also I'm not the world's best translator so if there's major screws, kindly point them out?
> 
> Facile, bambino; papà è qu = Easy, baby; dad's here.  
> No hablo italiano.= I don't speak Italian.  
> grazie/gracias = thank you


	3. My Children Are Solely Responsible for My Gray Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tony,” he whines, minding his grip on the steering wheel as his mentor’s laughter continues to pick up pitch. “It’s not funny. I’m being serious! Nobody teaches me this kind of shit in school.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little ditty today. Also, this could be considered an extension of my Explaining the Infinite piece. But you don't have to read that one for this to make sense- all you need to know is that Emerson/Emmy is my version of Morgan. Still don't own anything you recognize.

Peter’s exhale is weighty, a worthy noise to exfoliate the world’s woes resting on the young adult’s shoulders. He’s driving outside of campus and the mid-afternoon sun fills his car with comfortable heat. Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, he indicates with his blinker he’s changing lanes, before saying, “KAREN, call Tony, please.”

“Sure thing, Peter.” his A.I. connects the call to Bluetooth.

It doesn’t finish its second ring before the call is answered.

“Hi, Pete. Taking a break from studying?” his mentor’s voice floats out of the speakers.

Peter sags further into his seat at the familiar question. “I need help.”

“Okay. What’s the situation?”

“I just wanna preface this by saying I feel like shit, I haven’t slept well in like two years, and I think all the caffeine is out of my system. Oh, and I wish I added Borax to my smoothie this morning instead of getting shampoo in my eyes!”

“Peter.”

“Kidding,” he’s quick to take it back, sucking in his lips at the full use of his name, and slows to a stop at a red light. “Tough crowd. I get it. Right but I need help and Aunt May’s at work and honestly you’re gonna be better to help with this problem but at the same time I don’t want you to laugh at me.”

“Can’t promise I won’t laugh at you, but you know I’ll always help you however I can, bud.”

 Peter rolls his eyes and eases his foot on the gas. “Yeah, that’s probably the best I’m gonna get outta you. So I’m going to put gas in my car. And I also need to wash my car.” Tony hums from the other end and Peter realizes his mentor isn’t going to guess what’s wrong so the college student continues, “Does it matter if I get gas before or after I wash the car?”

 Silence.

Peter blinks at the information on his dashboard, afraid the line was disconnected but KAREN shows the call hasn’t been lost. Suddenly the sun’s warmth is too much for the little space Peter’s in and he fiddles one-handed with the A/C.

 Then Tony’s snort cracks into existence followed by wheezing belly laughs.

 “Tony,” he whines, minding his grip on the steering wheel as his mentor’s laughter continues to pick up pitch. “It’s not funny. I’m being serious! Nobody teaches me this kind of shit in school.”

 “Ah, buddy,” comes first and Peter can picture Tony in various settings throughout his penthouse laughing hysterically at him, but Peter hopes the man is at least in his workshop so Pepper isn’t within listening distance. “I think they call this a first world problem, no?”

 Peter scoffs.

 Eventually, his mentor reins in his amusement enough to reassure, “No, it doesn’t matter. But don’t get your car washed at a cheap place! Just wait until you come home after finals next week and we can wash it. I’m sure Emmy’ll love that.”

 Peter stops at another red light. “My car is filthy though, you don’t understand! And of course my three year old sister will be delighted and be all the help in the world by dumping soapy buckets all over the both of us to her little heart’s content. Duh. But really, it’ll be something quick just to make it look halfway decent until some asshole decides to key it up again.”

 “Your car’s been keyed _again?_ Um, okay, what the hell, Parker?”

 “Oopsies. I didn’t mean to say that.”

 “Well you did and now I know. Shit, my children are solely responsible for my gray head. Why didn’t you tell me it happened again, Pete?”

 “Uh, because I didn’t wanna deal with this?”

 “I’m not in a mood!”

 “May as well be,” Pete shrugs from his end, “and I don’t want you harassing me about moving _again._ I’m fine where I’m at! I promise.”

 “Things could escalate.”

 “Me and my car are perfectly fine, Tony. Also, I want the record to reflect that I did not ask for this car."

 “You’re driving it, aren’t you?”

 “...Yes.”

 “How many times has that poor car been keyed this semester? Your neighbors are assholes!” Tony rants and tries to reroute the argument into his favor, his voice muffling momentarily in the middle of it as he no doubts rubs his hand down his face in frustration.

 “Welcome to the college life, my dude.” Peter deadpans. “I’m pretty sure assholes are everywhere, be it here in Cambridge or community college in Queens.”

 “Well _yeah,_ I hold the longest running title for asshole on the east coast, but—”

 “Yeah, no, we’re not having this conversation. I’m at the gas station now.”

 “Don’t think we’re not finished about your car being keyed more than three times in a semester, kid.”

 “Tony.”

 “And don’t be surprised if you get a call from Emmy in the next five minutes either.”

 “Good, I need help with prepping for my biology lab and—”

 “She’s an artist this week, kiddo.”

 “The hell? But I can’t lose my best girl before finals! You gotta change her mind.”

 “She’s more stubborn than I am, somebody help us all, and I have to be an encouraging father throughout all stages of her life. Sorry, kiddo.”

 “ _Tony!_ I’m like one bad news away from a complete mental breakdown.”

 “Are you for real or joking because I can’t tell right now?”

 “I’m two seconds away from crying. This is so disappointing. I hate adulting.”

 “Welcome to the real world, my dude.”

 Peter jabs his thumb on the button to end the call, muttering under his breath about ironic mentors.


	4. Ronaldo the Cactus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penny’s singing lacks finesse, but humming under her breath isn’t so bad. And it really kinda sucks how poorly she sings because Penny loves it. Aunt May doesn’t care that she can’t sing that well (they call it square because the older woman can’t cook that well), so usually she’s the only person hearing her botched attempts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after saying I'd try my hand at genderbent!Peter for freaking ever, have my first attempt! If you recognize anything, I obviously don't own it, just having fun on a Sunday afternoon. 
> 
> aaaaaaand general self-promotion here because I had some minor user errors on getting it to show up the other day in the major tag, but positive I've got it figured out now. All the same, please read it if you're so inclined? <3

Penny’s singing lacks finesse, but humming under her breath isn’t so bad. And it really kinda sucks how poorly she sings because Penny loves it. Aunt May doesn’t care that she can’t sing that well (they call it square because the older woman can’t cook that well), so usually she’s the only person hearing her botched attempts.

(She sounds like a drowned cat and a teenage boy going through puberty crossbreed.) (Thank God or Thor that her puberty didn’t include pitching vocal chords because she knows for a fact she wouldn’t have survived that embarrassment, too…!) 

But three months ago, right before Christmas, Pepper had a meeting in Arizona and she brought Penny back a small cactus. 

Needless to say, she’s been delighted and enamored with it ever since! 

After Valentine’s Day, when May springs it on her that during Penny’s spring break Happy’s taking her on vacation to Bora Bora ( _yuck!_ ) and she’s staying with Tony and Pepper, Penny’s pissed at first. Guilty to admit her first thought is she’s never been anywhere on any of her spring breaks; then she realizes she’s gonna have full access to Tony’s lab _and_ bots, she concludes it’s pretty much the same thing as going somewhere on spring break so Penny gets over it. Still, as happy as she is that May’s happy, it’s weird that her happiness is found in Happy. 

Soon enough her break is upon them, and Friday after school finds Penny shoving her Spider-Woman suit down into her overstuffed backpack and yelling at Aunt May to stop rushing her. 

“Do you want me to forget my homework?” she asks, too busy dumping the stupid maroon bag out for the fourth time and starting over again. “You told me Pepper gave me ground rules! Homework is one of them and I can’t fit all this junk in one bag.” 

“Pepper gives everyone ground rules, kid.” comes Happy’s deadpan reply. 

Penny rolls her eyes, smirking in silent agreement. 

“Penelope Maria, if you’re not out here in five minutes we’re going to have a problem.” 

Penny’s not stupid— she knows better than to play on thin ice but the girl’s got minuscule amounts of self-preservation skills and she starts to open her mouth to point out it’s not like they’re on a tight timeline since Tony’s loaning them his private jet ( _traitor!)_ so they’re leaving at their leisure instead of whenever LaGaurdia demands. 

“And if I hear you back-sass me, I’m telling Tony you’re grounded the whole break.” 

Penny gasps. 

She’s _pretty sure_ May’s joking but she’s not willing to gamble on being grounded during spring break because yeah, that _has_ happened before and she’d rather not repeat it while under her mentor’s supervision. 

Four minutes and thirty-five seconds later, Penny trails out of her bedroom with her backpack on and Ronaldo the Cactus tucked in her left arm. 

May looks at her and laughs outright, nudges her chin at the front door, and disappears out of sight. 

“What? No bag for me to carry?” Happy waves his hand at the empty ground near her feet then indicating to May’s two pieces of luggage. 

“Like I don’t have clothes at Tony’s?” her right shoulder creeps toward her ear, scrutinizing her mentor’s former security detail and friend. “Plus, we’re gonna be in the lab most of the time so s’not like I need a week’s worth of clothes.” 

Happy mutters something about teenagers that Penny elicits to ignore as they follow Aunt May out the door and Penny locks up. 

“But why are you bringing the cactus?” Happy questions as they take the first flight of stairs. 

“Uh, because Ronaldo goes where I go and I’m not leaving my child behind for nine days by himself. What kind of parent do you take me for, Happy?” 

“It’s a cactus, Parker.” 

"He gets lonely and I have to make sure he’s a growing boy, step off.” 

Half a flight ahead of them, May calls back, “Lose the attitude, missy. And Harold, she’s always been high-strung about things like this— when she was seven she had this doll she took with her everywhere and acted the same damned way.” 

Penny jumps down the stairs to close the distance and tugs on her aunt’s wrist, the same one she’s looped her carry-on bag around, panicked. “ _May!_ You promised to never bring Holly Dolly up in conversation again. I can’t believe you just told Happy! This is so embarrassing!” 

All she gets for her troubles is barking laughter from both adults, so Penny stomps on ahead of them and waits by the car for Happy to unlock it. 

While waiting, she starts singing under her breath old Taylor Swift to Ronaldo to soothe him after all the excitement. _“You’ll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you’ll be safe and sound.”_

“Car’s unlocked, kid!” Happy’s voice floats toward her, stopping her impromptu singing session, around the same time when Penny hear the apartment complex door open and mechanisms _click_ confirms his statement. 

Penny dives into the backseat and pushes the divider button up despite the fact it can’t since the car isn’t started. Rate she’s going she’s most likely gonna break it.

“Aw, don’t pout so hard, lovebug.” May teases as soon as she’s situated in passenger seat. “I’m sure Happy won’t tell Tony until _after_ we get back from Bora Bora.” 

Penny throws her body backwards into the seat to knock her head against the headrest. _Take me now and put me outta my stupid ass misery,_ she laments. 

 _“Asking nothing, leave me be,”_ she channels her inner AC/DC rockstar as she mutters harshly under her breath to Ronaldo. “All they do is pick on me. Nowhere is safe and I’m out in the open, an easy to see target.” 

“Did you say something?” May asks as Happy opens the driver side door. 

“Nothing,” she denies. 

Happy heads up toward the Compound because Tony convinced Pepper it would be time better spent upstate than cramped in their Manhattan penthouse. At first, Penny had no preference on location so long as she was entertained, but then Tony spoke _upgrades_ plural and Penny knew the laboratory upstate was better equipped for what the mechanic had in mind. She’s been meaning to play around with Butterfingers’s codes for weeks now. 

Traffic outta Queens isn’t as bad as Manhattan but it’s still a hassle, so Penny dozes to Happy’s unhappy noises. 

“Wake up, sleeping beauty, your chariot has reached its final destination.” 

She snorts as she wakes up, blinking away sleepy dust in her eyes, and gazes right to see the awesome layout of the Compound. 

“Stop fudging up Disney stories, Happy.” she says as she gathers up her things, Ronaldo snug on her lap. “You know I break out in hives when you do it.” 

“And yet, you wonder why I keep doing it.” 

Aunt May giggles but Penny hears a light _smack,_ which means at least her aunt is halfheartedly on her side. 

Penny sucks in a deep breath, sticks her head through the open divider, and presses a quick kiss to Aunt May’s temple. “Bye May, don’t have too much fun without me, your darling sunshine, light of your life, favorite niece on the face of the planet. Larb you!” 

“I larb you, too!” 

“What? No goodbye for me?” 

Penny’s hand hovers on the door. “Goodbye, Mister Forehead of Security.” she smirks as she pushes open the door and slams it shut. 

It still doesn’t keep her from hearing Happy’s response. 

“If I didn’t know for a fact that you raised that kid yourself, I’d swear to you she was Tony’s.” 

“Don’t I know it.” 

Penny cackles all the way into the Compound. 

“Greetings, Penny.” FRIDAY speaks from on high and closes the door. “I see you made it here in one piece and with a guest, which means you didn’t swing here.”  

“Hiya, FRI! You know how strict May and Tony are about me swinging up here, so Happy just dropped me off. And of course I brought Ronaldo!” answers Penny as she heads toward the kitchen on Tony’s private floor for a quick snack. 

She finds Pepper situated on a barstool with her tablet. 

“Welcome, Penny!” Pepper’s warm smiles are her favorite but not as great as the hug she gets. “There’s a fruit bowl in the fridge with your name on it if you’re hungry.” 

Penny pulls back from the hug and moans, “I’m always starving!” 

She sets down Ronaldo and goes to pull out her snack. She sits with Pepper for five minutes as she devours her blueberries and cut up banana slices and grapes (no strawberries, so that’s how Penny knows Pepper created the snack and not Tony) and plays catch up. 

“Tony’s in the lab waiting on you,” Pepper eventually reveals with an eye-roll before standing up from the counter, Penny’s bowl in hand. “Go drop your stuff off in your room and meet him down there. But FRIDAY has you two on a strict timeframe because we’re going out for dinner at 7:30, okay? So no losing track of time excuses will work on me.” 

“Do they ever?” 

“Never have.” 

“I won’t let him forget!” 

“And I won’t let either forget, Boss Lady.” promises FRIDAY. 

Penny spots one of FRIDAY’s multiple motion sensors in the kitchen and throws her an unamused look. Then she tugs Ronaldo back into her left arm and shoulders her backpack on her right shoulder. 

“See you in a bit, Pepper!” 

She meanders down the hallway and asks FRIDAY to open her door for her because she’s lazy and on vacation, slipping her bag off her shoulder and setting it down inside the doorway, next to the desk, before glancing around the room for a spot for Ronaldo. Last time she brought him to the Compound he sat on her desk under the lamp, but she’s feeling that’s a little too far away. 

Penny settles him on her bedside table, squatting down to grin like a moron to him. “Comfy there, bud?” She pushes him around with her index finger until she’s satisfied. _“I wanted all or nothing for us ain’t no in between,”_ she starts humming the rest until she gets to the part she knows again, _“if it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be stuck singing this song!”_

She goes to stand up but that’s when she hears Tony’s wheezing laughter and she promptly falls onto her ass, squeaking out in embarrassment. 

“Holy shit, kiddo, are you _rapping to your cactus?”_

Immediately Penny is torn between her urge to cry out and find a nice corner somewhere in the Compound where Tony won’t find her. 

Instead she’s subjected to her mentor’s jubilation come closer and closer until he tugs gently on her to stand up but Penny absolutely refuses to make eye-contact with him and makes him do all the heavy lifting. For his part, her mentor stops laughing out loud but his vibrating upper body lets her know the truth. And Penny is mortified. 

“I know I can’t sing!” she wails into his chest once he brings her into a hug. 

“And can’t rap either,” Tony actually freaking giggles at her! 

“I hate you, old man.” 

“No you don’t,” he sing-songs, giving a quick tug on her braid, then pulls away from their hug. “I finally understand now why you’re always singing under your breath in the lab now.” 

“You’re no fun.” 

“C’mon, princess, I can teach you how to sing down in the lab until our dinner reservations.” 

“Why is everybody so mean to me?” She drops under Tony’s arm and stomps out of her room. “It’s like it’s Pick On Penny Day or something equally as drastic.” 

“Nope. It’s not a day, it’s gonna be a whole week. Aren’t you special?” 

“If you don’t stop picking on me, I’m telling Pepper.” 

Tony faux-gasps, “You take that back! Pen!” 

Her giggles echo all the way down the hallway as she races for the elevator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> come scream at me below? I promise I spent an equal amount of time on this 2k of stupid fluff as I did on my WIP yesterday :)


	5. May the Fourth Be With You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all have ciaconnaa to thank for brainstorming this one with me oof. YOU DA BESTEST!!! I required the fluff. that is all.

His phone rings, jarring him from a lucid nap. Upon seeing the caller id, Peter answers, “May the fourth be with you, this is Peter.”

“Oh, my god, kiddo! Did I call the nerd service instead of my intern service?” cackles his mentor, his laughter both startled and genuine. 

“Hey!”

“And isn’t it force not fourth?”

“Nooo, Tony; it’s a pun.”

“You and your puns. Explain it, please.”

“Today’s Star Wars Day. Y’know, May 4th.”

“Because fourth sounds like force… yeah okay, my young Padawan. I’ve got a tiny-sized person begging for her brother’s attention.”

“You mean Princess Leia requests my attention?”

Giggles fill the background right into his eardrum and Peter smiles, imagining Morgan standing on her father’s feet, listening to their conversation impatiently, doe eyes trained upward and maybe even breaking out the Pepper-in-training glare. 

“You gotta stop calling her Leia because that implies I’m Vader.”

“No, I am Leia, Daddy! Petey says so.” Morgan protests in the background. “Stop hogging him and lemme talk! You promised.”

By Tony’s discernible whine that only Peter can pick up because FRIDAY’s just that damn good (yeah, okay, superhearing helps, too, no use lying), he knows Morgan’s been pestering her father long enough. But his mentor doesn’t lose his patience.

“Morgan, _bambina mia, principessa mia,_ _per favore._ The adults are talking. Give Daddy another minute to talk to your brother, okay?”

Peter carries on before his impertinent sister has the chance to reply.

“I see your point about Vader. But— _oh!!_ Tony, you know what we should do for Halloween this year?”

“No— Pete, I don’t like where this is going.”

“We should dress up as Star Wars characters and you can paint one of your old suits black and go as Darth Vader! How freaking cool would that be?!”

“Your sister is literally right here,” his mentor intones, though it does nothing to hide the fact that Peter’s nearly won him over. He can tell based on infliction as well as Morgan’s exalted screech. “Okay. FRI, switch call to my phone. Little miss, here’s your brother. Do anything you can to convince him to come over within the next hour but be smart about it. I won’t listen in but I’ll be in the kitchen doing dishes if you need me.”

“Got it.”

Peter hides his smile inside his left elbow. He winces at the pressure.

“Petey, do you know what the best thing to do is when it’s raining and your daddy won’t let you go outside and play?” 

“I’m sure I could think up a few things, Mo; but I’m not sure if I know the _best_ thing, no.”

Morgan humphs, “Well, you can tell me your ideas and I can tell you how close you are.”

“Well, there’s swimming indoors.” 

“Daddy says you’re still grounded from the pool.”

“Still?”

“Have you given him the puppy eyes? They always work for me.”

“I think I’ve outgrown them, Mo.” 

“Then there’s your answer why you’re grounded still. Next.” 

“You can’t ever go wrong with arts and crafts.” 

“Yes,” the little girl growls, “ _you can._ We ran out of red glitter this morning.” 

“Well then, I’m sure if you asked Dad he’d build a fort with you.” 

“Oh, excellent! Petey, that’s just the reason why I called you!”

“Fort building?”

“Yes! Please come over and build that fort we talked about the other day. Will you? Please please please please, Petey?”

“Sure,” he nods and rolls off his bed, switching his phone to his left hand and bracing himself for impact with the right.

“What about the swing? Did you try it out?”

He jiggles his foot into his already tied sneakers and stomps until it pops in properly. “Uh, that’s gonna be a big no on the swing, Mo. I fell off it and broke my arm.” 

“I’m sorry; you did _WHAT_?”

“Do you have me on speaker? Morgan.” Peter panics because of his mentor’s anxiety bleeding through the other line. “Pretty sure we pinky swore Dad wasn’t supposed to know or hear about trade secrets.” 

“It isn’t—”

Tony cuts off Morgan. “When the hell did you break your arm?”

Years of experience force Peter to answer immediately, “Two nights ago. It’s also the reason why I stood you up for family dinner last night. But it’s fine! Tony,” he speaks quickly to keep his mentor from spazzing out further, “it’s fine, I’ve got superhealing, remember? It’s healed. I’m fine.”

“Get your ass down here so I can look at it.” 

The line disconnects.

Peter growls, “Not a helicopter parent, my ass.” 

 

* * *

 

“Morgan, cover your ears.” Tony orders his daughter, glancing down at his daughter momentarily, then returns to glaring at Peter atop a makeshift examination table. Just a comfy hospital bed. “You’re a dumbass. Pete, your arm healed wrong.”

“So we break it again and set it and it’s all good.” he shrugs, cradling his left arm against his chest. “No biggie.” 

“Shit Petey, that’s _bad.”_

“No!” Peter and Tony reprimand in unison.

Morgan rolls her eyes. 

“You need surgery.” 

“I don’t think surgery can fix that. It’s all— gross. Wrong.”

“It’s healed wrong, baby girl, because your brother has no self-preservation.”

“You’d have killed me!” squeaks Peter.

“No, I might kill you now because you didn’t come to me as soon as it happened.”

Morgan climbs up the bed and leans over Peter’s left shoulder to get a new angle on his mangled appendage. “Daddy, do we have to cut off Petey’s arm like Luke Skywalker?” 

“NO!”

“YES!” 

Morgan doesn’t startle at the simultaneous shouts, just hugs her arms around her brother’s neck and butts her head against his cheek. “I say we cut it off.” 

“No, Morgan.” Tony rubs his temples. “Peter… your arm is gonna be fine. Completely fine and normal after you have _surgery_ on it. There’s no reason to cut off his arm.”

“Wait! If we cut if off, won’t you just grow a new one?” 

“NO—!”

“I don’t know the answer to that. Let’s find out!” 

“My children…,” Tony trails off only to mutter in Italian. 

Peter ignores his mentor’s external struggles and winks at Morgan. “It’ll give my Halloween custom an edge. Plus, it’ll give you a reason to build me a bionic arm.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“You didn’t say the magic word, Petey.”

“You’re right, I didn’t. If I have to lose my arm, then will you _please_ build me a bionic arm, Tony?”

“No, I will not be building any bionic arms because yours is fine it just needs surgery.”

“But if it ISN’T fine—?”

“Peter. NO I am not going to build you anything.”

“But I wanna be a Jedi!” he whines as Morgan snickers into his ear. “Mo, tell him.” 

“Losing an arm would give him credit-ability, Daddy, he’s right.” 

“He already has credibility; he’s a superhero.” 

Peter sucks in a big breath and pulls out his ace card. “Dad, will you please cut off my arm and make me a Jedi?” 

The look Tony levels at him would have made him piss his pants if he were still fourteen. “Is being Spider-Man not good enough for you anymore?” 

“I wanna be BOTH.” 

Tony unlatches Morgan from Peter’s back and wrangles him into a sling. “Go build a fort. And absolutely under no circumstances are there to be any web-based swings in my living room, do you two understand me?” 

Morgan hops off the bed and reaches back for Peter. 

“Loud and clear, Doctor Stark.” 

“He’s not that kind of doctor,” Morgan tosses over her shoulder as she leads them out of the Medical Bay. 

“I know. I am being ironic.” 

“No, you are being a little shit!” Tony hollers. 

“That’s what I said.” 

After several paces outside of the medical wing and toward the elevator, Morgan must deem it far enough away because she says. 

“Did you bring the webshooters?” 

“Down to one. I broke the left one during the fall.” 

Morgan’s nose scrunches and it’s like seeing Pepper’s disgust on Tony’s female clone’s face. Peter loses it, snorting hysterically. 

He pays her back by allowing her to shoot a couple webs to hold their abundance of blankets and sheets and quilts and afghans together. Morgan preens.


	6. The One Where Tony Can't Say No

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know anymore. Here, have some silly nonsense.

“But he’s adorable!”

“So’s Morgan.” 

“Yeah, she’s so cute you let her get a cat.” 

“Your point?” 

“My point is that your adorable children should both have adorable animals.” 

“Nice try.”

Pepper hears her husband snort as she rounds the corner where the hallway dead-ends into the living room. Tony’s back is to her but she can tell his arms are crossed. He must be blocking Peter because Pepper does not immediately see the teenager. She stands back and listens.

“Tony, he doesn’t have a home.” 

“So go find him one. Isn’t that what Spidey’s been doing the last month: rescuing animals and taking them to no killer shelters and what not?”

Pepper bites her lip in amusement. 

“He could have a home here?” Peter sounds so hopeful and small and Pepper finally knows from where her daughter learned that particular trait. 

“Pete—”

“I promise I’ll come over every day to take care of him. And hey! Now’s actually the best time for us to bring him home—”

“No, Pete—”

“Because with May and Happy on their honeymoon for two weeks and me staying here in the interim, now would literally be the best time! That way he knows I’m the owner but this is his home.” 

Tony’s head bows and his shoulders shake.  

Pepper decides to make herself known. “What’s going on boys?” 

Her husband spins on his heel and Pepper gets a flash of red and blue sitting on the floor. “Chaos.” he opines, dramatic as always. 

Pepper stops walking once she stands next to Tony and sees exactly what she suspected she’d see: Peter decked out in his Spider-Man suit sans mask, cradling a puppy in his arms. Fighting back a grin, she turns to her husband with raised brows. 

Tony throws his hands up in the air. “We have a _cat._ ” 

“We do.” 

“A very cute cat,” nods Peter from his perch on the floor, “who also belongs to Morgan and not to Peter.” 

“Princess is a family cat,” deadpans Tony. 

“It’s Iron Princess, actually.” 

Pepper bites back her laughter at Peter’s correction. 

Tony glares. 

“Where’d the puppy come from, Peter?” Pepper asks, shifting to lean against her husband’s side. 

Wide chocolate eyes zero in on her and Pepper’s never been more thankful she’s had years of seeing her husband try same trick on her. (She’s a sucker for brown eyes. And okay, Morgan and Peter wear her down a lot faster than she likes to let on.) 

“So I rescued this little guy’s mom a few weeks ago, right?” Peter starts, bringing his arms up closer to his face so he can smile like a goofball at the puppy and smother it in kisses. 

“Right,” Pepper agrees, already knowing where this story and outcome are headed. 

Her husband’s grunt equates he is caught up as well. 

“So I took—well, I mean Spider-Man took the pregnant mom to a shelter that I really like off Queens Boulevard because I know several of the volunteers there. Anyways,” he sucks in a deep breath before rattling onward, “Tommy kept mama doggo at his place until she had the puppies and now they’re old enough to find their forever homes. And I happened to drop off a Boxer without identification today while on patrol and Jenny told me Tommy had brought in the puppies and seeing as I was the one who initially rescued them if I wanted first pick of the liter. And well… this little guy wouldn’t leave me alone and I couldn’t not bring him home!” 

Under his breath her husband mumbles, “Why’s he have to be such a good kid?”

Finally allowing her smile to unfurl, Pepper pushes off Tony’s bicep and goes to bend down by Peter. The sleeping puppy in his arms is precious, frankly, curled up tight in her pseudo-adopted son’s arms. 

“Do you know what breed he is?” she questions, reaching out to scratch behind an ear on the puppy. 

“A mix,” he starts, eyes peering up at her quickly with a wide smile that shows off all his teeth before he glances back down at his new companion, “but Tommy says the mom is definitely a border collie mix and that the dad most likely had to be a German Shepherd based on some of the puppies’ colorings.” 

“What’s his name?”

Tony groans at her inquiry. 

“Well,” Peter starts off sheepishly, “I was kinda waiting to see if Mo wanted to help name him.”

Pepper laughs and sits directly in front of Peter, silently asking if she can hold their new puppy her husband has yet to officially decide. Too bad Pepper runs this household. Peter passes him off and Pepper _melts._

“You mean the same Morgan who refused to allow anyone else name that gray and cream calico cat I got her?” comes her husband’s exaggerated indignation from behind them. “That Morgan?”

Pepper shows Peter her eye roll before saying, “I’m sure she’d love to help once she wakes up from her nap.” 

“You could always name him after your favorite superhero,” adds Tony, his footsteps coming closer to them. 

Peter peers up at her from the corner of his eyes, trying and failing to hide his wide smirk. “Well,” he breathes. 

Pepper turns until she faces Tony, who is now standing directly behind her. 

“If I named him after my favorite superhero, wouldn’t it be confusing if we had two War Machines running around?” 

Tony’s lower jaw pops open, sputtering inarticulately. 

Pepper’s laughter sweeps out of her and she doubles over when she turns back around upon seeing Peter’s innocent expression. 

It’s then Morgan joins. 

“What’s going on?” 

Her daughter shuffles into the living room, dragging her favorite blanket behind her and rubbing sleep from her eye with her free fist, and rams into Tony’s back legs until her husband gets the hint to pick her up. Only Tony doesn’t have the time to explain the situation before Morgan yells, 

“Puppy!”

Morgan damn near attempts to dive down from Tony’s embrace until she’s set down and Morgan flies toward Pepper, hanging over her shoulder to gaze down at the now awake puppy. 

“Mommy,” she begins, serious, “did you get Iron Princess a friend?” 

“No I didn’t, little miss,” she replies, “but your brother did.” 

Pepper loves seeing Morgan interact with Peter. Mostly her daughter uses Peter as a jungle gym; but if she isn’t climbing all over him, the little girl follows her brother around like a duckling. Now Pepper watches as Morgan releases her hold on herself before the little girl barrels straight into her brother’s chest. 

“Did you rescue her off the street?!”

“No,” he answers, “I rescued his mama off the street.” 

Morgan tilts her head, “Did she have the puppies before or after you recused her?” 

“After.” 

“So… is he going to be Iron Princess’s friend?” 

Peter opens his mouth to reply when her husband interjects.

“No. We are a one pet household and your cat’s filled the ticket.” 

He’s wearing down fast. Tony can’t say _no_ to Morgan, Pepper knows. He isn’t much better telling Peter _no_ either, for that fact. So Pepper knows where this is headed because she’s already made the decision they own a puppy now, too, and it’s only a matter of time before her husband reaches the same conclusion. 

Morgan spins around a pretty little frown on her lips and her eyebrows furrow. “Then why’s Mom holding him?” 

“Because she wanted to say goodbye.” 

“Nope,” she pops her consonant. 

“It’s because she’s made up her mind, Mo.” concludes Peter. 

“No—” protests Tony. 

“Our children know me well, honey.” Pepper sing-songs, pulling the nameless puppy up to her face. She drops a kiss to his crown before handing him back to Peter. 

“I guess we own a cat _and_ a dog now,” gripes Tony under his breath, but she knows that tone of voice. He’s only being dramatic for the sake of it. He plops down as gracefully as he can, mindful of his arm. “How about that?” 

Pepper offers up a radiant smile. “They’re happy, I’m happy.” 

“And if Pep’s happy, then so is the rest of the house,” he finishes. 

Morgan is glued to Peter’s left side, hanging onto him as they coo over their new animal. They toss names back and forth at a mile a minute until Pepper watches as Peter’s shoulders lower in defeat and Morgan preens triumphantly. 

“Iron Prince,” she says, nodding once, then turns to her parents. 

“Baby,” Pepper starts delicately, linking her fingers with her husband’s and squeezing. “Don’t you think that Peter should name his puppy since it’ll be his? You had your turn naming Iron Princess.” 

“But he said that I could help.” 

“I did say you could help, Mo.” 

“You heard him, little miss.” Tony nods, reaching forward to bob her nose with his real hand. “But helping is different than taking over the operation.” 

Morgan pouts but she does not disagree. Several seconds later she asks Peter, “What name did you like again?” 

“Spock,” he answers quickly. 

“No way am I allowing you to name our dog Spock,” Tony says and shakes his head. 

Iron Princess walks into the living room, nudging up against Tony’s thigh, before curling into his lap. As if proving his point, Peter nods his head in the calico’s direction and grins. Pepper bites back her smile. Tony pulls a face.  

“How about Jedi?” Morgan suggests. 

Peter’s eyes light up, “Oooh! I like that one. How about Harrison?” 

Morgan taps her chin, “Iron Jedi? Iron Harrison?” 

Tony rests his forehead on Pepper’s shoulder and he laughs under his breath. “How about neither?” 

Peter blows a raspberry, “Okay. I’ve narrowed it down to two names. We’ll take a vote. Han or Luke. Aaaaaand go.” 

“Iron Luke!” shouts Morgan. 

Because Pepper knows how the vote will go, she says, “Han.” 

Tony whips back, looking at her as if she said something scandalous instead of taking the opposite side. “Luke.” 

Everyone turns to Peter. 

“Han,” he adds. 

“Well, shit.” 

Morgan giggles into her hand. 

Peter holds up the puppy for a close inspection. “I dunno guys,” his nose scrunches up, “I think Mo might be right: I think he’s a Luke.” 

“Um excuse me, what am I: chopped suey?” 

“Nope,” grins the younger man, scooting across the carpet and passes off the puppy into Tony’s lap, “you’re the proud dad of four rambunctious children.” 


	7. Cotton Candy and Snow Cone Adventure

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> honestly idk anymore. this one spawned by a hyped-up conversation between me and hailing-stars on tumblr. it's mass chaos but so is the ironfam.

“I’m bored.”

Peter’s hands stay steady as he works on the screwing in the second to last bolt as his eyes flick over to Morgan. “What? You’re bored! My assistant can’t get bored; I need you at peak mental condition right now, Mo.”

“Petey,” she exhales his name with such gusto the teenager waits for his invention to collapse.

_Good thing it’s metal_ , he supposes.

“You could at least tell me what you’re building.” she wheedles, tilting her head around until the corner of his eye catch hers and she beams up at him.

“Defeats the purpose of a surprise.”

The five year old levels him a look that makes Peter thankful she isn’t his age yet. “Can’t be a surprise if I’m here.”

“Wow,” he breathes, setting down his screwdriver. “What ‘tude you’re giving me, little miss.”

Brown eyes blink back at him, unimpressed.

“Maybe we should wait on our surprise then, if you’re so bored.”

Tears well up and Morgan’s lower lip trembles.

Peter quickly backtracks, “Wait wait wait!” he holds out his palms, placating the little girl. “I’m kidding. Mo, I’m teasing you, honey. I need, like, two more minutes and then I’ll tell you all about the surprise. Cool?”

“Can I screw in the last bolt?”

“Yeah, sure. Come over here,” he nods vigorously and helps Morgan rearrange her stool until she’s directly in front of him.

She picks up the screwdriver and immediately twists right. Her smile is more a proud smirk when she finishes and peers up at him. “That it?”

“Should be.”

“What is it?”

“I’m rewarding us for good behavior!”

Morgan pivots on her stool and it causes Peter’s hands to spazz out and hover around her in case she tumbles off. She doesn’t. “What is it?” she repeats.

“A snow cone and cotton candy machine!” he says it like he’s some carnival announcer, hands presenting the massive lump of metal on his workstation. He didn’t have time to add colors yet. They can do that later. For now, he’s 92% sure it’s functional. “Ta-da!"

Her brown eyes lighten considerably.

Now he smirks down at the girl that may as well be his little sister, “Wanna see how it works?”

“Yeppers!”

***

“Why is my house quiet?” Pepper asks, immediately on the defensive as they amble along the front porch.

“Uh, because it’s past their bedtimes and little kiddies should be sleeping?” Tony offers.

Pepper side-eyes him. “It’s ten, Tony, not two in the morning.”

“Not my fault old age has slowed us down.” 

“Speak for yourself,” his wife scoffs, though she doesn’t bother holding back her giggle.

Tony pulls a dramatic mein.

Pepper’s head tosses backwards as laughter bubbles up her throat. She lets a handful out before realizing how loud she has been and whacks the back of her hand against his sternum. “Enough.”

He smirks at his wife.

Pepper meets his gaze. After a couple heated beats, she turns back around and unlocks the front door.

It’s too much to ask for but Tony really hopes both kids are asleep.

“Where are they?”

Tony blinks at the empty living room. “Um,” he pauses in thought, “that’s an excellent question.”

“You check Peter’s room, I’ll check Morgan’s.”

Tony follows his wife up the stairs and he turns left while she goes right. Peter’s bedroom is empty, doesn’t even look like the kid has been in there all evening. Tony sighs.

He meets back up with Pepper in the hall. 

“Not in her or our room.”

“Where could they be?” he wonders aloud.

It’s times like these when Tony wishes he’s installed FRIDAY throughout the entire cabin. Which, frankly, isn’t an often wished on inclination but it almost always has to do with his kids.

“They gotta be here somewhere.”

“Don’t freak out,” his wife says.

“I’m not freaking out. This isn’t me freaking out,” he retorts. “There’s only so many places they can be. Pete’s car is parked out front.”

“Right.”

“You check the guest bedroom. I’ll check the garage.”

Pepper nods and they split back up.

His garage has been turned into a tinkering lab, because the full-blown lab is under lock and key in the basement where curious little girls can’t barge in without being yea-tall, but as soon as Tony walks inside it looks like Disney vomited a winter-fucking-wonderland.

“What—in—the—world?” He asks, spinning around once, twice, three times, trying to identify the substances coating the walls and workspaces and tools and robots and oh yeah, now it’s on his shoes. “Gross.” 

“Hiya, Tony!” comes from on high. 

His head snaps up and zeroes in on Peter. “What the actual fuck, Parker?”

Peter is unperturbed, crawling across the ceiling with lightning speed. One second he is directly above him and the next the teenager is on the other side of the room in the corner. He makes little noises as he moves. 

“Where’s your sister?”

“Sleeping,” is his reply.

Tony closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. After several moments, he turns around and sure enough there’s Morgan dead-asleep on the sofa, wrapped up in a couple blankets. His shoulders relax ever-so-slightly.

Then Tony spots some confection atop Peter’s workbench and that appears to be the source of the mess. He walks over and investigates.

“Whatcha got here, kiddo?” Tony asks, dropping his tone of voice to be curious and open in hopes that Peter will feel enticed to answer him.

“Hmmm… it’s a snow cone ’n cotton candy machine,” his kid sounds intoxicated, not so much slurring his words together as his mouth is too lazy to open fully but he’s getting there.

Tony’s intrigued. He’s opening his mouth when Peter makes a sound of distress and scurries across the ceiling like a madman, circling around and around and around enough to make Tony nauseous.

“Oh no, Mom’s home. Gotta hide Mo, gotta hide gotta hide gotta—” and a blur drops down and wobbles before tumbling to the floor.

Tony wants to laugh. His stomach twists and his cheeks are twitching. Peter’s on a massive sugar high and he assumes that Morgan’s in a sugar coma. He wants to be pissed, he does; but Peter’s concoction is rather clever. He wants to offer praises. Then again, if his wife is on her way over like his hyped-up spider-kid says chaos has only begun.

“Tony have you found— what’s this?”

_Yep,_ Tony thinks, _shit’s gonna hit the fan._

As calmly as possible Tony explains the situation to his wife. Peter whines on the floor, clutching his head and his stomach. Pepper’s jaw tightens, but her lips uptick for the briefest of seconds. Make no mistake she’s furious but Tony knows the situation is humorous. He stays silent, though, not wishing to draw his wife’s ire. Instead he assists Peter back into the cabin while Pepper carries Morgan up to her room. 

Tony holds in his laughter until Pepper’s in the shower fifteen minutes later. 

***

“What does she mean I’m not responsible enough to watch Morgan by myself?” Peter’s voice pitches up a couple notches indignantly. His eyes watch Pepper leave the room to grab Morgan’s cup from the kitchen. “She doesn’t trust me? I’ve never harmed your child!"

Tony shrugs. “You did feed our kid nothing but sugar last time you were in charge.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Pete.”

“Nooo, I’m being serious.” his kid pouts, trying his hardest not to full on whine.

“Y’know I’ve never experienced memory loss by sugar before.”

“Tony,” this time Peter does whine.

Before Tony has time to respond May swoops in.

“Good thing I’m the fun Aunt, huh?”

Peter glowers at the woman, though he really just looks like an angry puppy.

From the front door Tony hears Pepper telling Morgan to behave for Uncle Happy and Aunt May and Tony takes that as his cue to say his goodbyes to Peter.

“Stay away from my secret stash. FRI’s on duty now.”

And because he’s sneaky, he steals a cheek kiss from Peter and gives his daughter the same treatment.

On the way out the door Tony hears Morgan say,

“Auntie May, can I have a juice pop please?”

And May replies, “No can do, little miss. Petey’s the reason this place is on sugar lock down.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you have any ideas or just wanna come scream at me here's my [tumblr](https://ardenskyedarcy221b.tumblr.com)

**Author's Note:**

> hearts and comments are food for the writer's soul <3
> 
> Italian translation: let's go now my family 
> 
> PS my childhood nickname was Roo so if you @ me why that's the reason.


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